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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918100">two songs about three pitchers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamsinb/pseuds/tamsinb'>tamsinb</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blaseball (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Character Study, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Prompt Fill, first one is fluff second is angst, uwu jaylen AND evil jaylen?? yall are eating today and i am the culinary services</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:47:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamsinb/pseuds/tamsinb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>you thought about the private game you liked to play, seeing how much you could throw away and have it come back pristine without your interference, testing your resilience, after all if death had fallen off of you like rain off a windshield than what else could you get away with…</em>
</p>
<p>(a handful of prompted shorter fics)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaylen Hotdogfingers/Betsy Trombone, Jaylen Hotdogfingers/Goodwin Morin/Betsy Trombone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 12- things you said when you thought i was asleep (jaylen/betsy)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I don't have a tumblr but this looked fun so I asked people to send me them anyway and now I'm putting them up here!<br/>(i don't know yalls tumblr urls so im just using the ones on ao3 lol) The first came from cryptidgay and the second from paopuleaf! The first is fluff and the second is angst.</p>
<p>&amp; if you wanna request one of these from me then do so by all means, you'll just have to like comment it on here I guess? Or if you know where to find me then do that. Idk, these were fun! Hope yall enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>“Oh c’mon trust me Jay, it’s gonna look great!”</p><p>“Uh huh. Betsy I’m not really sure if I trust your hair opinions, given your. <em> Situation.” </em></p><p>“Hey my hair looks sick.”</p><p>“It looks like you cut it with your switchblade.”</p><p>Betsy blushed.</p><p>“Oh my god. Betsy.”</p><p>“Look I-”</p><p>
  <em> “Tell me you fucking didn’t.” </em>
</p><p>“What!! It’s convenient, I’ve always got my knife on me so if I ever feel like it’s getting a little long I just… you know.”</p><p>“Betsy. Betsy.” Jaylen swiveled around. “Ok listen. No more of that. Let it grow out normal and we’ll get it actually cut by someone who knows what they’re doing.”</p><p>“I kinda. Uh. Don’t like hair places tho. Freak me out. Too many mirrors.”</p><p>“Fine then I’ll do it. I’m not great, but I know what I’m doing. Which is probably more than I can say for you.”</p><p>Betsy looked away and down. “Yeah, uh. Okay. I’ll stop messing with it, you gotta promise you’ll take care of it though…”</p><p>With Jaylen’s head turned they couldn’t tell if it was a smile or a smirk. “You know I’ve never broken my word, Betsy.”</p><p>Betsy blinked hard. “W- wait a second, we’re dealing with you here, not me!”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jaylen turned around to face the mirror and Betsy hopped on top of the box behind their chair to start running their hands through her hair.</p><p>“It’s just like, you haven’t done anything with it for <em> four </em> seasons now. You could probably stand to mix it up some.” Betsy bunched some hair up experimentally in their hand. Dry, but soft underneath that. They played with some lower down, moving it over and back Jaylen’s neck to try to get a rise out of her. It worked, Jaylen smacking their hands away as Betsy snickered.</p><p>“Well <em> excuse </em> me. In case you forgot I spent most of those seasons with barely any hair at all, just hanging on for dear life. It’s nice having it back, I don’t think I’m ready to cut it yet.”</p><p>“I don’t mean you have to <em> cut </em> it, just like. I dunno, somethin different. Ever tried putting it up?” And Betsy grabbed as much hair as they could get in two hands and hoisted it up, the loose strands falling vaguely around either side of Jaylen’s face, framing it in the mirror as Betsy watched, playfully bobbing the ponytail around like it was dancing.</p><p>“Oh my god oh my <em> god </em> I look like a different person,” said Jaylen laughing, “put it awayyyyy.”</p><p>“Hahahaha you look so weird like that, Jay. You look like, uh, like you’re gonna tell me I can’t smoke in the library.”</p><p>“Trombone I swear to god one more line like that and you’re going straight out the window, you’re going-”</p><p>“You look like!” and Betsy was barely getting it out between cackles, “You look like in the movies when the girl puts their hair down in their makeover? But like, the before version…”</p><p>“That’s it. This is the end for you. Out the window you go. Goodbye Betsy.”</p><p>“Have to fuckin catch me first, Hotdogb- oh SHIT”</p><p>And Jaylen lunged at Betsy and then they were all over each other.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Betsy woke up on the couch, on their side and semi-laying ontop of Jaylen. One of her arms was around their waist. A different show was on TV than when they’d fallen asleep, so Jaylen must’ve changed it. Some high school melodrama. Betsy always got a kick out of how lame Jaylen’s taste could be.</p><p>They leveraged themself up a bit, turning to look at Jaylen’s face. Eyes closed and resting in a way it seemed she let herself do far far too infrequently. Betsy pressed their lips together in a tiny smile. Maybe just a bit of mischief. They snaked one of their hands around Jaylen’s shoulder and grabbed her hair up again. It cast a long shadow in the television’s dim light.</p><p>“Huh,” they muttered quietly to themself, “it actually looks. Really good…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>“Betsy get your lazy ass up I’m making eggs. How do you want them.”</p><p>“Grgh? Uh. Sunny-side up… I guess…”</p><p>“I already scrambled them.”</p><p>Betsy groaned. They were still on the couch, a pillow propped under their head to take Jaylen’s place. The light streaming through the window hurt their eyes.</p><p>“Then why’d you fuckin ask?”</p><p>“...You usually say scrambled.”</p><p>Betsy rolled their eyes and sat up to grab the glass of water on the table. Empty. They hop up to get some more and catch Jaylen from the side, sliding breakfast onto two plates, hair back in a high ponytail.</p><p>And Betsy felt the words to make fun of her rise to their lips but from how Jaylen carried herself they knew if they brought it up it would fracture some silent moment that could never be replaced. They stood and watched and felt warm against the cool wooden floor.</p><p>Jaylen turned to them. “You coming or what?”</p><p>“No,” smirked Betsy.</p><p>“Fuck off!! Come eat your eggs.” And Jaylen was caught unaware by a laugh that turned into a smile, and it reached up to her eyes and Betsy lost themself in the patterns and creases that played around the face they loved.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 20- things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear (jaylen/betsy/goodwin)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t really that funny when you thought about it but then again you supposed it being funny wasn’t the point. Anyway, you said it like a joke, and anyway Betsy was being really annoying so they probably deserved it. And anyway you’d said it quietly enough that no one should’ve been able to hear, but maybe if it came from the same part of you that threw the balls that laid motherfuckers low then maybe the words were carried on the part of her that gave those HBPs their necrotic power in the first place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway the three of you were in some random park in San Francisco with nothing but a picnic blanket and a bottle of wine and anyway none of you were out of it enough to let </span>
  <em>
    <span>Goodwin</span>
  </em>
  <span> drink so it went down to you and Betsy and you’d made pretty good progress except every time you tried to grab the bottle they’d move it a bit further away and it went on way longer than necessary and you’d said something and they’d said something about how you were dead and two neurons fired together and you’d sort of half mumbed </span>
  <em>
    <span>well at least my team fucking wanted me back-</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you’d laughed under your breath too until you turned to see Betsy and </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddamn if seeing the pain evident on their face didn’t feel just about as fucking good as it did back then-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And anyway they’d left after that and you didn’t see where they went but you figured it was either to throw a private pity party or take a lap while they thought of a comeback, and anyway Goodwin was sort of giving you a look and you knew what it meant but not in words, really, and you gave one back and reclined on your elbows in the low sun and other peoples’ playing reached you </span>
  <em>
    <span>and you thought about the private game you liked to play, seeing how much you could throw away and have it come back pristine without your interference, testing your resilience, after all if death had fallen off of you like rain off a windshield than what else could you get away with…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anyway now Goodwin still smiling as always was telling you you were out of line and anyway you wanted to say that was the point but instead you said Betsy would be fine and they’d come back and Goodwin agreed they probably would but her smile right then seemed even more plastered on than usual. And anyway right then you were too busy acknowledging both that you should have felt worse and that you didn’t feel bad that you didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And anyway right about when Goodwin took a breath and right about when you were considering since it was usually a gray area with her asking if you could just lay your head in their lap, just for a second, that was when Betsy popped back up out of nowhere wielding the wine bottle they’d smashed into a jagged edge on </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> and anyway as they promised their wrath upon you with nonthreatening thrusts you thought once again </span>
  <em>
    <span>see? it never sticks, just like rain off a winshield...</span>
  </em>
</p>
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